


Whumptober 2019 - 11 - Stitches

by OllieCollie



Series: Whumptober 2019 [11]
Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Gen, Stitches, Whump, awesome Severide, fight, mugged, someone may or may not end up stabbed, with knives involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 14:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllieCollie/pseuds/OllieCollie
Summary: From the look on his friend’s face, Severide knew that Casey, too, was calculating the chance of them taking the punks down with minimal injury. These guys were pretty big, and even if he and Casey could overpower them with their fists, the knives added an entire other dimension to the situation.“No heroics, got it?” Impatience was overtaking the leader, unease showing through in the way he shifted, jabbing his knife in the men’s direction. “Just—”Before the word even left his mouth, Severide made his move. In one swift motion, his fingers clamped around the thug’s wrist, shoving the knife away. His other hand curled into a fist at the same time, landing a punch directly to the jaw of the would-be robber.





	Whumptober 2019 - 11 - Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo...I may or may not have churned this out yesterday. XD I am proud of how it turned out, though. So I hope you guys all enjoy it as well!

It was  _ supposed  _ to be a fun night out on the town. A couple of rough calls the past week coupled with a huge plumbing mess at the station—the result of frozen pipes—had Severide needing something different than the usual evening visit to Molly's. He’d wrangled Casey into coming with him, and despite the icy winter weather, they'd had a good time.

It was late, and the two firemen had just decided to call it quits and head home for the night. They’d joked and laughed as they exited the bar and started down the street. That was when things went downhill.

Kelly was in the middle of spinning a wild story that probably was a  _ little  _ over-exaggerated, but entertaining nonetheless. “I’m tellin’ you, man, that was—” 

The end of his sentence was interrupted by the back of Casey’s hand slamming into his chest. A grunt escaped his mouth at the impact, and he squinted. 

“What—?”

“Shh.” It was then that Kelly became aware of the fact that the two of them were alone in the silent street, having been left by other groups of pedestrians making their way home or to who-knows-where.

Severide frowned, ears catching the soft rustle of movement between the two buildings he and Casey were passing. They barely had time to exchange glances before two big, shadowy figures appeared in front of them. One wore a mask, while the other had his face mostly hidden by the jacket hood pulled over his head.

The squad lieutenant immediately took on a fighting stance, mind racing as he processed what was happening. He barely registered the glint of sharp metal objects clutched in the hands of the figures before the taller—and masked—one spoke up, voice gruff as he waved his knife meaningfully. “Don’t say a word. Just hand over your wallets.”

Severide subconsciously took a step to the right, blocking half of Casey’s body from the thugs’ view. He lifted his hands slowly. “Woah, hey.” Keeping his voice calm and smooth, he edged closer. “Let's not—”

“Shut up!” the leader snapped, glancing over both shoulders. Even through the dark, Severide could tell he was nervous. Like maybe they were new at this.

The second guy held out his free hand and made a grabbing motion with it. “Hand over the wallets and nobody gets hurt.” 

From the look on his friend’s face, Severide knew that Casey, too, was calculating the chance of them taking the punks down with minimal injury. These guys were pretty big, and even if he and Casey could overpower them with their fists, the knives added an entire other dimension to the situation.

“No heroics, got it?” Impatience was overtaking Mask, unease showing through in the way he shifted, jabbing his knife in the men’s direction. “Just—”

Before the word even left his mouth, Severide made his move. In one swift motion, his fingers clamped around the thug’s wrist, shoving the knife away. His other hand curled into a fist at the same time, landing a punch directly to the jaw of the would-be robber. 

“Go, Casey!” he ground out, throwing the leader to the ground and readying himself to meet the other attacker. “I’ll be right behind you!”

But of course, Casey didn’t listen. Before the first guy had even hit the cement, he was headed for the action, fists connecting with the second mugger. 

There wasn’t time to see how the truck lieutenant fared, however, because Mask was already clambering back to his feet, an angry, inhuman growl escaping his lips. He lunged at Severide, who stumbled in an attempt to dodge the wild swing of the knife. Taking advantage of the moment, Mask stepped closer and gave his opponent a rough shove, forcing him deeper into the alley. Severide felt the breath rush out of his lungs as he was slammed against the brick wall behind him. Black crawled at the corners of his vision, but he was determined not to let it overtake him, not with a crazy guy with a sharp blade coming at him. He paused for a split second, waiting for his attacker to move closer...and then he jumped into action, catching the man off guard and tackling him to the ground.

A struggle for control of the knife ensued. Severide grunted, wrapping his hand around the offender’s wrist and shoving downward with all of his might in order to keep the knife away. 

The thug’s knee thrust upward directly into Severide’s stomach, causing him to loosen his grip. They rolled over in a tangle of limbs, and the knife skittered across the ground, disappearing somewhere amidst the trash littering the dark alley. Mask tried to scramble away to search for his weapon, but Severide’s fingers curled around the thug’s jacket, and with his free hand landed a punch, eliciting a grunt from the man.

A pained yell suddenly cut through the night air, stunning the group into silence for a moment. Severide had to force himself to keep his focus on the big fist being wildly swung in his direction. But he couldn't ignore the gasp that followed, nor the sound of a body hitting concrete. 

“Hold it right there!” The order reached Kelly’s ears just as he hauled an arm back, readying to unleash another punch on his attacker. His eyes skittered over to the guy who had shouted, moving closer. The knife wedged between his hands swung to point in their direction. “Nobody had to get hurt,” he muttered, breathing hard. “Now hand over your wallet before it happens again.” That’s when Kelly spotted the crimson liquid dripping from the end of the blade in the man’s hands.

A choking cough from somewhere below broke the silence that followed.  _ Casey.  _

The street lights weren't bright enough for Severide to make out much more than his friend’s figure on the ground...and the puddle of thick liquid growing underneath him. 

Severide’s gaze flipped back to the two men now standing in front of him. Before he had a chance to blink, Casey grunted and hooked an arm around the armed attacker’s leg, catching him off guard and causing him to lose his balance. 

Severide knew there was no time to waste. Without a moment of hesitation, he threw himself toward the second man—the one still holding a knife. The weapon flew out of the thug’s hand, sliding across the concrete. Both Kelly and the thug lunged for it, arms outstretched. 

Severide felt his fingers curl around the handle of the knife, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Now that he had control of the weapon, he could easily come out on top now. Or so he hoped. 

The thug’s muscular body collided with his less than a second later. Severide grunted and rolled, sending the guy scrambling to avoid winding up pinned down.

By the time Severide popped to his feet and had the knife firmly secured in his grasp—with no intentions of actually using it unless absolutely necessary—both of their attackers had vanished into the night. He watched as they made a hasty retreat, feet pounding on the pavement in the opposite direction from which they'd come. Chickens. 

Severide was sorely tempted to go after them, but another pained gasp from somewhere nearby triggered a memory.  _ Matt! _

The squad lieutenant whirled, letting the knife clatter to the ground next to him and simultaneously kneeling next to his friend. 

Matt coughed. “S—Sev?”

"Hey, hey, you're good." Severide put a hand on Casey's shoulder to keep him still. His other hand tugged his friend's shirt up to examine the wound. "It's not even that bad," he said, letting his firefighter instincts take over in order to keep himself calm. “Barely a scratch.”

Casey grunted, chest heaving. “Sev...you—you okay?” he churned out between labored breaths. 

Severide blinked. “Case,  _ you're  _ the one who just got stabbed, if I'm not mistaken.” He shook his head. To settle his friend’s conscience, he muttered an “I'm fine” while searching for something to staunch the flow of blood leaking from his friend’s wound. Even in the dark, he could make out the injured man’s pale face and closed eyes. 

Casey wheezed, cracking his eyelids open. “All the risks we...take for the job, and I g—get taken out by muggers on the st—street?” He moaned. 

Severide wasn't sure whether to laugh or let out an exasperated sigh, so he settled on a combination of the two while using his free hand to dig his phone from his pocket. He dialed 911, explaining the situation in as few words as possible while keeping his focus on his injured friend. 

“You're gonna be okay, man,” he reassured, returning both hands to press down on the wound.

Casey grunted and shivered, eyes drifting shut again. 

“Hey, stay awake.” The blood loss was probably starting to get to the injured man, and Severide knew he had to keep his friend awake. “Come on, how ‘bout you guess how many stitches you’ll need to close this up?”

Casey squinted up at him. “Stitches? Thought you...said it was...was barely a s—scratch.”

Severide glanced down at the blood coating his hands. “Well, maybe I miscalculated. You are definitely gonna have to be sewn up.” Sirens wailed in the distance. “The cops had better catch those idiots who thought it was okay to mess with us,” Kelly growled, more in an attempt to keep his friend conscious than anything else.

Before Casey could get in a response, flashing lights accompanied the sirens as emergency vehicles took the corner and screeched to a stop. 

Kelly breathed a sigh of relief as the paramedics took over, working to staunch the flow of blood and load Casey into the ambo. He stood silently for a moment, trying to process the wild events of the past few minutes. Well, this definitely was  _ not _ how he’d imagined their night ending. 

Then he heard Casey arguing with the paramedic about how many stitches he would end up needing, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He might as well join in and place his own bets.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading/following Whumptober with me! Drop a comment/kudos if you enjoyed the fic (or even if you didn't XD)!


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